


The Price You Pay

by kittenofdoomage



Series: Angst Appreciation Day 2017 [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Cancer, Cheating, F/M, Family, Reader Insert, Romance, Sex, Smut, daddy!dean, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 17:13:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11490936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: Written for Angst Appreciation Day and other challenges.





	The Price You Pay

He wasn’t sure how many times he’d driven her away. But he was sure of one thing: it was always his fault, always his fuck up. Dean Winchester was a walking disaster, and he should have known that from the second he let her into his heart.

Love didn’t run smoothly for anyone in his family.

Tipping the beer bottle back, he drifted, letting his body relax against the windshield of the Impala, his eyes scanning the star-filled sky. Sam would come looking for him soon, wondering where he’d gotten to. Dean just needed a moment.

He remembered the first time he’d seen her. Fresh off the hunt for his dad, newly accompanied by Sam, still grieving over the loss of his girlfriend only weeks before. Hunting down an angry spirit in a shithole backwater town with a population of less than ten thousand. And there she was. Pulling up in a cherry red 1970 Buick Riviera, the engine growling enough to compete with his Baby.

It was hit or miss whether he fell in love with her or the car first.

He recalled the length of her legs in the denim shorts, the smoothness of her skin, the way she tossed her hair back out of her eyes. Fuck, he’d gotten hard the second she walked up to them with a confident smile, and a Glock tucked in the back of her waistband.

She’d taken that hunt right off of them, and Dean hadn’t lifted a finger to fight her on it.

He hadn’t taken the chance the first time he met her. Her number, he’d definitely gotten, but she was out of his league. Dean was sure of it.

Until he met her again, six months later. She was in the Midwest on a black dog case, and Dean was just passing through on the way to Bobby’s. There was no hesitation when he saw her car outside the dive bar, recognizing it anywhere, unable to get her off of his mind. He’d spent hours jacking off to the thought of her curves, the way her mouth turned up in a smile, the imaginary form of her lingering over him to get him to his peak.

Sam knew it, could see the signs, but Dean blew him off every time, dismissing his teasing. Dean  _ knew _ love, he’d felt it before, and what he felt for her was nothing like anything he’d experienced. She was an enigma, a light he’d never hope to grasp.

And then she’d taken him into her bed.

After several shots of tequila, and Sam off crying back to the motel room, they’d gotten to sharing war stories. He’d never met a girl so badass in his life, and when she’d pulled on his jacket, suggesting they go somewhere a little more private, he’d been so quick to answer, he’d almost tripped over his own tongue.

She was handsy. And sneaky. Her fingers had his shirt over his head before he could protest, dragging him onto her motel bed with power he suspected could probably kill him. Hell, Dean would have died happy. The way she molded into his larger frame, her mewls and whimpers as he kissed a path down her body, the little giggle as he snapped the clasp of her bra undone…

There was no chance he’d ever forget that night.

He wouldn’t forget the next morning either. Dean had ditched many a girl before, but he’d never been the ditchee. And waking up alone when you’d gone to sleep with a soft, warm, pliant feminine body in your arms, was a jarring experience.

After that, he tried to put the heartache out of his mind, but he never left another woman to wake up alone.

Another year passed, and they met up again. He was a little more jaded, she carried herself with a little less confidence - maybe she’d been to hell too, he didn’t ask.  But the hunt was there, and they were both in town, so they worked it together, avoiding all mention of their night together. She was quieter, more withdrawn, and Dean found he didn’t like that, although he didn’t want to pry into her life.

Turned out, he didn’t need to. Once the witch was down, body crumpled and rotting on the ground of the abandoned orphanage they’d found her in, Y/N had collapsed in tears, and Dean didn’t know what to do. He’d sat with her, allowing her to sob into his lap, only inches from the dead body of the witch.

It all came out. Her personal fight, the revenge she sought for the loss of her family. She even made an apology to Dean for leaving him without explanation, even if he didn’t feel like he deserved it because of how many times he’d done the exact same thing. In turn, he revealed his fight, the apocalypse, and the impending release of Lucifer.

They shared a bed again that night, but it wasn’t sexual, for the most part. A few kisses, feather light touches, and then they slept, both of them feeling the weight lifting a little.

Dean didn’t wake up alone the next morning.

She woke up first, and when he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was her, smiling softly at him, her eyes bright and wide. He returned the smile, lifting one hand to gently caress her cheek, not even stopping to think before he moved closer and pressed a kiss to her lips. The way she responded was enough to make his heart thump wildly, and when she moaned into his mouth, he was done for. 

Both of them had fallen asleep in their clothes the night before, but neither of them took much time to remove them, exploring each other with light kisses and barely-there fingertip touches. Dean loved the way she arched into him, the little noises she made shooting straight to his groin, and the second she shimmied down the bed, her fingers wrapping around his cock, he lost himself.

Her mouth was hot and warm, and everything he’d dreamed of from their last time together. She bobbed eagerly up and down his length, burying her face into his pubic hair, breathing through her nose as he felt the tip of his dick slide down her throat. Her hand was cupping his balls, rolling them in her palm, and Dean gave a choked cry of pleasure as she swallowed around him.

When she pulled away, he felt bereft, quickly pulling her upwards, wanting her everywhere, but she resisted, pushing his shoulder back flat to the bed. There was a smile on her face that made his cock twitch, and he watched in awe as she straddled his waist, slipping down his body until her pussy was covering his length, coating him in her arousal.

“You want this?” she hummed, dragging her nails down his side. Dean hissed, grunting his need for her, reaching out only to have his hands slapped away. Y/N moved, raising her hips and taking hold of his cock again, lining him up and sinking down in a way that made every pornographic fantasy he’d had pale in comparison. 

God, she was magnificent. Moving up and down with a roll of her hips, completely in control of everything, riding him like he’d never been ridden before. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, watching the curve of her breasts as they bounced with her movements, the way his cock disappeared into her body. The feel of her slick, hot heat around him was enough to make him think he’d glimpsed heaven… again.

And then she was coming, getting herself off on his dick, using one dainty finger to circle her clit, and Dean knew he wasn’t going to hold out. He wanted it to last, wanted to spend hours ravishing her, marking her, claiming her as his, but she was in control. Her cunt clutched at him, and he let a growl of pleasure go, just as his cock throbbed and pulsed, spilling into her without waiting.

He probably should have asked about birth control beforehand, but Y/N didn’t seem all that bothered as she climbed off of him, leaving a sticky trail of his spendings over both their thighs. Dean didn’t move, watching her bare ass as she walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

There was no way he could let her walk away after this.

And that was how it started. They never put a name to what they were, but she wouldn’t stay. For a week he had her, in his arms, hunting, fighting, fucking, drinking. She was as much a mystery as she ever had been, and Dean was head over in heels in love with her.

Then she was gone again.

There was no sneaking out in the middle of the night. No note, no sad parting. It was all on him, him and his stupid whatever that cursed his life. She’d gotten a call about a solo hunt, and Dean had objected, not wanting her to go alone. He couldn’t go with her - he had seals to stop and a brother to save from the clutches of the devil. But Y/N wasn’t going to be dictated to. She was her own woman, and they’d fought. He’d walked out, intending on drowning his sorrows in a bottle or two at the local dive bar.

He’d never imagined she’d find him there, intending on apologizing, realizing his need to protect her. Instead, she found him with a busty blonde in his lap, her tits in his face as he practically drooled over her.

The blonde hadn’t appreciated being turfed to the floor in his drunken haste to chase after the woman he loved. He gave every reason and excuse in the book; they weren’t official, it had only been a week, she wanted to leave anyway - none of it flew in the wake of her hurtful gaze.

“I was falling in love with you,” she whispered, tears spilling from those beautiful eyes he adored waking up to. Dean stepped forward, reaching out, but she avoided his touch, the sadness on her face turning to angry steel. He didn’t even think to tell her that he wasn’t falling, he had already fallen. But she was turning away, love turning to hatred even as he watched. “No matter how many women you take to your bed, I’m the one you’ll always think of before you go to sleep.”

Her parting words. Her parting shot.

She was gone, off in her cherry red Buick without him, not even looking back.

And she was so fucking right.

*****

The apocalypse came and went. Sam died, and came back, and sometimes, Dean didn’t think of her. Didn’t think of the way she moved, the way she fought, the way she came on his fingers with kitten-like mewls that twisted his heart and his stomach into knots he’d never be rid of. Sometimes, he wasn’t wracked with guilt and shame, loss sinking into his very being like a poison. Spending a year in Purgatory seemed to ease the thoughts, because he was too busy trying not to get eaten.

It was his curse.

And then… she was there again.

Her hair had changed, along with the curves of her body, like she’d lost the last of that youthful puppy fat, and she seemed a little softer, until she laid her eyes on him. She was hunting with Garth, and when Dean first glimpsed her, she was laughing with him. It made him jealous, and instantly Sam had picked up on his anger.

“Dude, you haven’t seen her for four years,” Sam muttered, elbowing him in the side. “I know she’s the one that got away -”

“She didn’t get away,” Dean spat, keeping his voice low and his gaze fixed on her. “I pushed her.”

Y/N turned, looking away from Garth towards them both, her entire body freezing on the spot at the sight of him. He offered her a smile, but got nothing in return, feeling his stomach drop as he approached her. “Dean, Sam!” Garth said.

“Hey, Garth,” Sam replied, waving a little, looking at the girl his brother had pined over for so long. She gave him a hesitant smile, before Dean spoke and wiped it from her face.

“Y/N,” he started, and Y/N smiled brightly at Garth, stepping back, ignoring him.

“I’m gonna head back to the motel,” she announced, her tone breezy as she moved around Garth, purposefully avoiding coming anywhere near Dean, and his shoulders slumped as watched her leave. She was still driving the Buick, and not one of the three men spoke as the car wheel spun away from the curb, Pat Benatar blasting from the sound system.

When Dean tore his eyes away from the empty road, Garth was giving him a strange look. “What?” he spat, and Garth frowned, as Sam shook his head. 

“What are you guys doin’ here?” Garth asked, folding his arms across his chest. This case’s outfit of choice was a nice fake FBI jacket, the yellow lettering glittering in the sun. “Not that I don’t love to see y’all, but a heads up woulda been nice.”

“The shifter?” Sam queried.

Dean grunted, his mood souring by the second. “What have you got so far?”

Garth blinked in surprise at the way Dean addressed him. “ I’m sorry, are you addressing me?” he replied, regarding the other hunter coolly. “Because your authority is not recognized in Fort Kickass.” Sam chuckled, and Dean glowered darkly, shaking his head. “Dude, we’ve got this case covered. And anyways, I don’t think Y/N wants to see you.”

“That’s obvious,” Sam snorted, and Dean made a growling noise under his breath, before turning around and stomping back to the car, leaving his brother and Garth behind. “We’re gonna be in town for a day or two. Call us if you need any back up.”

“Will do,” Garth grinned. “Not that I’ll need it. Y/N is kick ass.”

Sam paused, eyeing the smaller man carefully. “Are you two… y’know…”

The laughter of the other hunter caught him off guard, and it was a few seconds before Garth regained his composure to answer, almost crying from whatever had tickled him. “God, no. Dude, she’d eat me alive.” His laughter ebbed into little giggles, and he jerked his head towards Dean, who was sat in the Impala glaring at his phone. “She’s still in love with him. But she hates him too.” He sighed. “Young love.”

A smile tugged at Sam’s lips. “Yeah, right.”

*****

Dean had waited until Sam was asleep, sprawled on his belly across the motel room bed, snoring loudly. Keeping the noise to minimal levels, a skill he’d honed over the years, he left the room, locking it behind him, before heading for the local bar. His brother had stopped him from drinking like he wanted to, but if there was anything Dean needed now, it was a stiff drink or ten, and a mindless fuck.

He stepped into the dive, seeing drunken bikers and barely-dressed women around him, but he ignored them, moving towards the bar and ordering a bottle of Jack Daniels. With his shot glass and bottle in hand, he selected a booth towards the back, settling in to drink himself into oblivion.

A few moments passed, and he heard raucous laughter from the booth behind him, and slurred discussion. Someone was making jokes, and Dean would usually ignore it, but whoever it was was possibly more wasted than he’d ever seen in his life.

“No no no _no_ ,” the feminine voice said, as a male laughed at her. “- Like, a big, sweaty fireman carries you out of a burning building, lays you on the sidewalk and you think – _Yeah, okay, he’s gonna give me mouth-to-mouth –_ ” A interruption of jeers and “I’ll give you mouth-to-mouth honey” but she carried on. “- but instead he just starts choking the shit out of you, and the last sensation that you feel before you die is he’s squeezing your throat so hard that a big wet blob of drool drips off his teeth, and just –   _flurp_ – falls right onto your popped-out eyeball.”

The men stopped laughing, and Dean snorted with laughter, loudly, his shoulders shaking with mirth. No one from the other booth said a word, until a shadow fell over him, blocking the light from the bar’s cheesy disco lights.

“Think I’m funny?” she said, hands on her hips, her stare more drunken than angry. Dean looked up, mouth agape at the sight of Y/N, her hair dishevelled and messy, clothes in a little disarray. He hadn’t drunk quite enough to feel confident with her, but his mouth hadn’t received that memo.

“I think you’re fucking wasted,” he grinned, leering at her. She eyeballed him, her brow creasing downwards in a cute little frown, and Dean wanted nothing more than to kiss her. 

That train of thought was disrupted by the appearance of a large, burly man with hair longer than Sam’s, although he didn’t quite have the height. “This loser botherin’ you, sweetheart?”

Dean scoffed, blowing air through his nose as Y/N swayed on the spot, not tearing her eyes away from him. The biker-looking dude scowled, putting his arm around her shoulders, and she sagged a little under his weight. Anger welled in Dean’s stomach, the thought of another man touching her making him want to reach for his Glock.

“Yeah,  _ sweetheart _ ,” he mocked. “Am I bothering you?”

She sucked in a breath, before shrugging her shoulders to get the man’s arm off of her. He looked put out, his scowl being directed at her. “Been buyin’ you drinks all evenin’, you little slut.”

“Oh, go fuck yourself,” she spat. “Can you even read?” Her words were drawn out and slurred, but Dean couldn’t help but laugh. The biker looked more angry than he had before, but Y/N wasn’t finished. “And  _ you _ ,” she growled. “Turning up here, on my fucking hunt, thinking you can just boss your way back in?” She shook her head. “Oh, no, Dean Winchester, you got a lot of fucking explaining to do.”

He’d honestly never heard her cuss so much. The biker moved, trying to grab her arm, but she was still fast, even if she was unsteady on her feet. She spun on the spot, ducking to punch her closed fist into his balls, and Dean was there, catching her before she hit the ground at the same time as her aggressor.

“I think you’ve had enough,” he muttered, but Y/N wasn’t agreeing with him, struggling in his hold.

“Get off me!” she screeched, trying to push her way out of his arms, and he let her go, watching her stumble across the floor of the bar, tripping over the burly dude still cradling his balls on the filthy linoleum. Dean chuckled, noticing the crowd and attention she’d drawn, getting to his feet.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he offered, knowing he had to get her out of the bar before she spent the night in the drunk tank. “I got a bottle of Jack, and some “explaining to do” as you put it. How about we go somewhere a little less likely to get you arrested.” The bartender was already on the phone, and Y/N opened her mouth to argue, before Dean pointed at him, directing her attention that way. Her mouth snapped shut again, and she eyed the bottle of whiskey he was holding up, before swallowing visibly. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Dean mumbled, taking her arm and marching her through the crowd, out of the door.

When they were clear of the bar, and Dean was sure she wasn’t going to fall flat on her face, he let her go, stopping to face her. “You’re a dick,” she spat, wobbly on her feet, her eyes barely focusing.

“Oh and you’re such a prize,” he replied, sighing heavily. “So, where are we going?”

“I’m going back to my room,” Y/N slurred, turning on her heel and walking straight into the lamp post behind her. She yelped in pain, and Dean was there behind her, reaching up as she covered her now-bloody nose. “Duck,” she swore and he couldn’t help it - he burst out laughing. “I ducking habe du.”

He shook his head, still shuddering with laughter, hooking his arm around her shoulder to lead her back to her room. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

There was no fight in her now, and he could see the tears in her eyes. It was unlikely she’d broken her nose - but she’d definitely bruised it, and the blood was still trickling down over her chin. But she didn’t resist as he led her down the sidewalk and over the road to the motel. She fished in her pocket blindly, handing him the key to her room, which he took gingerly, trying not to think about the coolness of her fingers in his.

She let him guide her inside, sitting on the bed where he instructed her to stay, and she tilted her head back, pinching the bridge of her nose. The bleeding seemed to have slowed, possibly stopped, but her lips and chin were covered in red, the lines dribbling down over her throat and staining the cream coloured top she was wearing. Dean left her there, darting into the bathroom and grabbing a towel, wetting it thoroughly before returning to the bedroom.

“You’re gonna have to take your top off,” he muttered, and Y/N grunted, but didn’t resist when he slid her thin jacket from her shoulders, swapping arms patiently as he disrobed her, until she was sitting clad just in her bra. “I think that’s ruined,” he pointed out, inspecting the cream material.

“Eh,” she replied, the sound nasally from where she was holding her face. Dean gave a wry smile, sitting next to her, proceeding to clean away the half-congealed blood from her skin. There was no movement from her as he did so, just her steady breathing, and he felt her body trembling where his thigh pressed into hers.

“I was sorry, you know,” he started, knowing she wasn’t in a position to argue. A sigh escaped her lips, but she didn’t stop him from continuing. “Nothing happened. I was drunk, and pissed, and you… God, you infuriate me sometimes.” He waited, wondering if she’d bite. “But I was an ass, I know that. I never meant… I never meant to drive you away.” There was a pause, and he moved the towel up, proceeding to clean away the blood on her chin and lips, wondering if they still felt the same to kiss. “You were right,” he whispered, wiping the last vestiges of red away. “You were the only woman I thought of.”

Y/N released her grip on her nose, slowly lowering her chin as he pulled away, still staring at her, and he saw her throat constrict as she swallowed, slightly bruised eyes focusing on him. “I don’t understand…” she started, her voice quiet and a little shaky from how drunk she still was. Dean didn’t say anything, waiting for her to finish. “I don’t understand how I fell in love with you so easily. I don’t understand how I’m still in love with you, after all this time. And I definitely don’t understand… why I don’t hate you. Why I missed you.” She swallowed again, tears gathering in her wide eyes. “I don’t know why you’re here.”

His restraint wilted, and he leaned in, pulling her to him in a deep and heated kiss. There was no change to how she felt, or how she tasted, or even how she responded, but he knew she was drunk, and he wasn’t, and despite the aching hardness in his pants, he pulled back, sighing as he cupped her face in his large hands.

“This isn’t a good idea,” he said, his voice thick with arousal. “I’m not taking advantage of you.”

She giggled, the noise high pitched and clearly not in the slightest bit sober. “There’s no advantage taking here, Winchester.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Not happening. Why don’t you lay down and I’ll get you a glass of water.” The pout on her face was utterly adorable, and Dean had to force himself to pull away, hearing her kick her boots off and shuffle up the bed as he crossed the motel room to grab a glass of water. When he returned, she was curled up in the fetal position, eyes open as he climbed onto the bed beside her. Almost instantly, she was at his side, snuggling into him, taking a sip from the glass he offered before he placed it on the nightstand. “You’re a nightmare,” he pointed out, and she giggled again.

“Says you.” A yawn made her gape wide, and he saw her eyes drifting shut. “M’face hurts.”

“You did smash it into a lampost.”

“Shuddup.”

Dean smiled, lifting his arm to curl it around her, dragging her closer against him as he shimmied down the bed. “I don’t understand either,” he muttered, seeing her lips curl upward in a smile, though her eyes were shut. “You got some sort of spell on me.”

“If only you knew,” she whispered cryptically, and Dean tilted his head to the side, trying to think of what she could mean, when a soft snore alerted him to the fact that she was asleep. He smiled, stroking her cheek, checking over her nose - there was definitely going to be some bruising there in the morning.

“God, I want you to stay with me.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead, almost terrified to sleep in case she wasn’t there when he woke up. It would break him if she danced out of his hold again, if he’d managed to chase her out of his life once more.

*****

Sunlight filtered in through the curtains, and Dean stretched, opening his eyes. Immediately, he felt the warmth of her body curled into his - she’d turned over in the night and was now playing the little spoon, still snoring lightly as her ass pressed into his groin. He was already at attention, and groaned as she shifted in her sleep, notifying him that he  _ really _ needed to pee.

“Sorry,” he squeaked, slipping out from behind her to run to the bathroom, relieving himself quickly. When he returned, she remained in the same spot, and he moved back in behind her, sighing in contentment as she snuggled straight back into his body like she belonged there. Dean couldn’t help himself, and he leaned in a little further, pressing his nose to the back of her neck, inhaling her scent. Underneath the lingering smell of whiskey and beer, he could smell her flowery shampoo and the moisturiser she used.

“What are you doing?” she asked, making him jump a little.

A chuckle left him as he circled his arms around her waist. “Just enjoying you. Being here.”

She didn’t reply, but he heard the gentle sigh she gave, and the way she wiggled her ass into him. It made him groan lightly, his hold on her tightening. For a few moments, they lay in silence, just being with each other, and Dean felt a sense of peace wash over him, a rare sensation in his life.

“What happens now?” Her voice was quiet, and Dean sucked in a breath, not sure what to say. “I mean, I have to help Garth with this hunt. Unless he took care of it while I was… y’know…”

“Stumbling around drunk and flirting with hefty bikers?” Dean offered, and she moved her foot, aiming the heel for his shin. It didn’t hurt and made him laugh under his breath. “Sorry. But you were wasted as hell last night.” She hummed in agreement, and the silence took over again. He waited, leaning into her, closing his eyes. He knew what he wanted, but he didn’t know if she wanted the same, or anything like it. “I want you to stay,” he whispered, braving the suggestion. Her entire body stiffened, and his heart sank.

“You really want that?” The way she said it was hesitant, like she almost didn’t believe it, and Dean frowned, tugging on her arm until she rolled over to face him. Her eyes searched his face as he watched her, but her expression remained neutral. “Dean… we barely know each other.”

“Don’t care,” he shrugged. “The way I feel… there’s…” He stopped, struggling to put it into words. “I’m not good at this,” he admitted. “You got me tied up in knots, Y/N. Some days, you’re all I think about.” He reached up, tracing her cheek with his thumb, seeing the bruising from her incident the night before. “And I  _ want _ to know you better.”

There was a faint smile on her lips, her hand covering his as he stared at her. “There are things… Dean, I’m not, I’m not the person you think I am.”

“Aren’t you?” he queried. “You’re a hunter, like me. You’re fierce, and strong, and beautiful…”

“I’m not any of those things,” she replied. “You’d hate me if you knew the truth.”

“I don’t care,” he insisted. “You might think you’re not, but baby, I know what I see in you. Maybe we’ve only had days together, but…”

She shook her head, halting him as she pulled away. “It’s too much of a risk. Hunters don’t get happy endings, Dean. There’s always a price.”

“And I’ll pay it,” he said, forcefully. “It’s worth it, for you. I know it.”

A barked laugh fell from her lips, as she shook her head again, a little less forcefully. “You’re crazy.”

He shrugged. “Maybe.” His fingers grasped her hips, pulling her into his body again, and she whimpered at the feel of him pressed into her. “But I want you, and I can’t stop feeling that way. So stay. Come back with me and Sam. We’ve got a place, a safe place, somewhere we can be…” He trailed off, and she looked up at him with wetness on her cheeks.

“We can be what?”

There wasn’t an answer he had for that. Happiness was a stretch for their life, almost an impossibility. Instead of words, he leaned in, swallowing down his own doubts with hers as he kissed her breathless. Her fingers slipped around his waist, clinging to him, and Dean couldn’t help the way his hips rolled into her, his arousal getting the better of him.

Y/N pulled away first, gasping, her eyes almost black with lust. “Make love to me, Dean.”

It was so fucking cheesy, possibly the cheesiest chick flick line to ever exist, but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to do just that, and nothing was going to stop him this time. Pushing her onto her back, he moved over her, placing his knees either side of hers, before kissing a path down between her breasts, over the stomach, to the top of her waistband.

“What’s this?” he asked, tracing the thin scar along the underside of her belly. Her eyes darkened a little, and she shrugged.

“Werewolf. Got the better of me a few years ago.”

Dean nodded, kissing the line, making her shudder and mewl, before he turned his attention to unbuttoning her pants, dragging them down her thighs, along the muscled lines of her calves, until he could fling them across the room. She watched him, eyes lidded and chest heaving, as he repeated the action with her flimsy cotton panties, exposing her to his gaze.

“You’re beautiful,” he muttered, leaning down to press his lips to the bare skin above her mound, smiling at the small noise she made. His name fell from her lips like a prayer, and he dipped his head, dragging the point of his tongue over her clit, and she spread her thighs for him, allowing him a little more room to move. “Tell me what you want, Y/N.”

“Want…” she gasped as he flicked his tongue against her, “want to come, Dean.”

He grinned, before returning his mouth to her, flattening his tongue against the sensitive hooded bud at the top of her soaked folds, using his fingers to tease at her entrance. Her hips raised off of the bed at the gesture, encouraging his movements, and he slid one finger into her easily, her body opening up for him without the slightest hitch of resistance. “So fucking wet,” he groaned, curling his finger inside her, before dragging it out again. Y/N cried out, prompting him to sink two digits into her, scissoring them apart to open her up. The second he covered her clit with his mouth, sucking lightly, using his tongue to tease her, she was keening and clutching the sheets in her fists, her head thrown back in pleasure.

“Dean,” she groaned. “Need more.” She didn’t have to ask twice, as Dean pulled up, pressing three fingers into her slick channel, twisting his wrist as he fucked them into her, keeping his eyes on her face as she panted and writhed for him. The noises she made weren’t even intelligible, and intensified as he lapped at her clit, circling the swollen bud until her body was clutching at his fingers tightly, her thighs shaking with the effort of keeping her legs spread.

He growled as she soaked his hand, gushing over him as she rode out her climax, and when he pulled his fingers free, he replaced them with his tongue, lapping up the taste of her. Tremors took hold of her as he coaxed her through the aftermath of her climax, only stopping when she slid her thighs shut.

“Too much?” he asked, withdrawing as she nodded. 

“C’mere,” she whispered, reaching for him, and he obliged, moving up to lay beside her, but she wasn’t content with that. “No, up here.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, before complying with her request, sitting at the top of the bed. Y/N moved, positioning herself between his thighs almost in a mirror image of how he’d been between hers, not waiting more than a second before her fingers were encasing his cock. His head fell back against the headboard, a low groan echoing through his chest.

He wanted to tell her that he loved her, but his words were obliterated as her lips covered the tip of his length, and she sank down onto him until her throat constricted with her gag reflex. “Fuck,” he hissed, his hands either side of his hips, clawing at the sheets.

Y/N smiled around him, looking up with his cock between her lips, her eyes wide and almost innocent looking, and Dean almost blew his load there and then. She kept bobbing up and down on him, not stopping for at least a minute, and he grunted, willing his orgasm back, holding onto a thread of control.

Then she pulled away, and he felt a split second of loss, until her fingers wrapped around him again, and her fucking mouth was on his balls. The noise he made was positively sinful, but Y/N didn’t pay him a bit of mind as she swirled her tongue around his sac, pumping his length with those slender fingers. Every sexual experience he’d had in his life paled in comparison to this, and he was fairly certain he saw stars as she kept up the pace, tightening her hand around the base of his cock while her mouth suckled at his sensitive jewels.

He was cursing hard now, not even sure what he was saying, but his thread of control was snapping, and Y/N knew it. She increased her pace, her eyes closed as she focused on what she was doing, and then… fuck, her tongue was brushing across his taint, and he felt it. His climax slammed into him, his cock throbbing in her hand as he came hard, all over himself and her hand.

She released him, sitting up on her knees with a self-satisfied smug expression on her face as Dean struggling to open his eyes and look at her. Her eyes sparkled, and she lifted her hand up, inspecting his spendings, before sticking her tongue out and licking her fingers clean.

If Dean could have come a second time then, he would have.

His phone started ringing, interrupting the moment, and he emitted an irritated groan, leaning over to grab it, his eyes still on Y/N as she got off of the bed and walked towards the bathroom. He heard the shower turn on as he snapped a gruff greeting into the phone.

“Dean, where the hell are you?”

Ah. Sam.

“I’m, er, I’m about three doors down.” Silence followed his words, and he cleared his throat. “Sam?”

“You’re with Y/N?” There was disbelief in his brother’s voice, and Dean nodded, smiling widely, looking down at the mess on his stomach. “Unbelievable. I take it you’re gonna be a while?”

“Probably.”

Sam made a disgusted noise. “I’m going to get breakfast,” he said, before hanging up, leaving Dean laughing where he sat. The bathroom door was open, and in the mirror, he could see Y/N’s silhouette behind the shower curtain, and his cock twitched with renewed interest.

They didn’t have anywhere to be in a hurry.

*****

Dean had never really expected her to stay, but stay she did. She came back to the bunker, taking up residence in his room, and it was more than he could ever ask for to wake up next to her. There was no more arguing either; he didn’t stop her from going on hunts, and gradually, he felt that maybe it would all turn out okay.

Four months passed. Hunts came and went, and they were focused on the trials that Sam had started. Dean had initially wanted to be the one to do them, but Sam had taken charge, forcing his brother to hang back and watch as he killed the hellhound and did the spell.

Y/N hadn’t really said much about the trials, although Dean knew, having learned exactly how her family died, that she had no objection to closing the gates of hell.

A few days after the hellhound incident, she fell ill. She was withdrawn and quiet, spending her time in bed, and Dean kept her company, bringing her soup and watching movies with her. He assumed it was a stomach bug, some sort of flu that she’d picked up. At first, he didn’t worry; then the fever set in, and his panic began to take hold. He insisted on a hospital, backed up by Sam, who took one look at her and knew something wasn’t right.

She didn’t argue, too weak to do anything but drift in and out of consciousness.

Dean held her in the backseat of the Impala, as Sam drove like a madman to Lebanon Memorial. Her head rolled in his lap, and he kept stroking her hair, worrying consuming him. “You’re gonna be alright,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Just a bug, you’re gonna be fine.”

He didn’t quite understand the quiet apology she returned.

Not until the doctors emerged from her room, three hours after they had brought her in.

Sam had left to get coffee, and Dean was pacing the hall, chewing on the inside of his cheek anxiously. A kindly looking older lady doctor came out, gesturing to him and he stopped, staring at her dumbly, terrified of what she would say.

“So, is it stomach flu, or something?”

Her facial expression was steady, but he could tell; it wasn’t good news. “Mr. Winchester, would you take a seat?”

He shook his head. “No, I’m okay standing.”

The doctor sighed, clutching at the clipboard in front of her. “We’ve received the reports from Miss Y/L/N’s previous oncologist,” she said, her voice even, and Dean frowned. Y/N had never mentioned an o or any kind of doctor. “They said that this was to be expected, with the stage she was at.”

“Stage?” he repeated. “Stage of what? What’s going on?”

“Are you her next of kin?” The doctor asked, unsure of what she was allowed to tell him. “We have a maternal aunt, Linda Collins, listed on the forms -”

“I’m her goddamn boyfriend!” Dean replied, raising his voice more than he intended to, but his emotions were getting the better of him. He longed to fight something, to kill something, to stop whatever was hurting her, but there was nothing for him to do except stand there.

It was fortunate at that moment that Sam appeared, coffee in his hands, and he swiftly moved to intervene between the kind doctor and his about-to-explode brother. “I’m Sam Winchester,” he offered, placing one of the coffees on the chair he’d been occupying for the last few hours. “Y/N is my roommate; she’s my brother’s girlfriend. What’s wrong with her?”

The doctor sucked in a breath, eyeing Dean warily, but she obviously felt a little more comfortable talking to Sam. “We received her files from Doctor Norman, in Omaha?” Sam looked at her blankly. “You weren’t aware she was ill?”

“She… she never said anything,” Sam replied, glancing at Dean, who shook his head, his eyes going to the blind-covered window that Y/N was behind. “How ill is she?”

“It’s leukemia,” the doctor announced, and Dean’s heart shattered. Cancer. She had cancer. “Specifically, she was diagnosed with chronic myeloid leukemia about three years ago. It’s a slow progressing cancer of the blood. The consultant offered her treatment, but she refused.”

Sam stood in stunned silence, as Dean moved to lean against the window, struggling to hold back tears. It made sense now - the way she told him sorry in the car, when she’d told him that he’d hate her if she told him the truth…

He didn’t hate her.

He could never hate her.

“Dean?” Sam nudged him.

“She’s resting now. We’ve made her comfortable, but she’s at the end stage. It’s a rare condition, and usually can be treated, although not always. The type she has is aggressive, and her oncologist recommended both chemotherapy and radiation but she refused.” The doctor looked at them both kindly. “You can go in, if you wish.”

“There is no treatment now?” Sam asked, and Dean’s head whipped round. If there was, he’d force her to take it - he couldn’t lose her.

The doctor shook her head. “I’m sorry. It’s simply too far along.” She bowed her head a little, before drawing away, and Sam looked at his brother, sighing heavily.

“Dean -”

“Why wouldn’t she tell me?”

“I don’t know,” Sam replied, reaching out but Dean jerked out of his touch, moving to the door of her room, opening it slowly. He stepped into the darkness, feeling Sam behind him, listening to the sound of beeping machines, and Y/N’s slow breathing.

She looked so small, so frail. Like she was slipping away a piece at a time. How could he have missed it? Looking back, he remembered that the number of hunts she went on was dwindling - she was tired a lot more, eating less. She’d lost weight, but he’d never even thought -

“Dean?” she whispered, opening her eyes to look at him. A smile pulled at her thin lips, and he forgave everything instantly, moving to her side, taking the chair next to her.

“I’m here.” His fingers threaded through hers, holding her hand tightly. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” she admitted. “The doctor told you, huh?” He nodded, and she looked away, tears gathering in her eyes. “I knew you’d hate me.”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t hate you,” he insisted, squeezing her hand, making her look back at him. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.”

“Everything comes with a price.” The reply made no sense, and he frowned, looking over at Sam, who shrugged. Y/N gave a dry, humorless laugh as she shifted in the bed, grimacing at the pain it caused. “I need you… I need you to go to my car. There’s an envelope in there, that you need to see. All I can say is sorry, Dean. I never meant to lie to you, I never… I never wanted to keep this from you.”

He bent his head, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “I wouldn’t have hated you for being sick, Y/N. You know that.”

“N-not the cancer,” she whispered, tears falling down her cheeks. “I had hoped that you’d never… that if you didn’t see me again and I slipped away, but then you were there, and you were…” she sucked in a breath, smiling through her tears. “You asked me to stay, and I was selfish. I wanted this, but I knew…” She looked away, hiccuping a sob that seemed to fill her with pain. “I knew it was coming soon. I knew it that night you took me home. I’ve felt it for so long.”

“I don’t understand,” Dean murmured.

“Get the envelope,” she asked, gripping his hand with more strength than he thought she might have now. “When I’m gone… you’ll know. You’ll understand.”

*****

She lasted three weeks. 

Dean stayed with her the whole time, only returning to the bunker to shower and change before he was back out again. Sam came and went, taking hunts and dealing with things that Dean couldn’t bring himself to prioritize above her. As Y/N slipped away, little by little, Dean felt himself going with her.

It was a quiet Friday evening when she drew her last breath. For a moment, she’d opened her eyes, some of the life he’d seen before coming back into her eyes, and she’d looked at him, smiling that smile that had drawn him in from the first time he’d saw her, and then…

He hadn’t even registered the nurses and doctors swarming the bed as her hand fell from his. There was no attempt at resuscitation - she’d signed a DNR when she’d first been diagnosed. Dean was numb as they removed the wires and tubes, leaving him alone with her for a little while. It looked like she was simply sleeping, and with the absence of anyone there, Dean broke down, sobbing without restraint, clinging to her lifeless body.

Sam came to pick him up the next morning, not speaking a word as they watched them wheel her away, just a shell, headed for the morgue. Two days later, they released her body to them, and Dean had built the pyre himself, burying her ashes next to the bunker, in the small patch of woodland where she’d never be disturbed.

He’d forgotten about the envelope.

He didn’t even want to look at her car.

Three days later, he was wallowing in a bottle of cheap whiskey, when Sam emerged from the garage, the thick brown envelope held in his hand. He placed it on the table in front of Dean, looking at him expectantly, and Dean returned his gaze with stubborn grief.

“She asked you to read it.” His brother’s statement hit him right in the heart, and he dropped his eyes to the brown casing, reaching out with shaking fingers to drag it closer. “Want me to stay?” Sam offered, and Dean nodded, not speaking.

It was sealed, but came apart easily in his hands. There were papers, photos of a little girl, and a handwritten letter. Y/N’s handwriting. Dean frowned, picking that up first, as Sam went through the other paperwork.

_ Dean, _

_ I know by now that I’m not here anymore, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry I kept everything from you, but I didn’t know how things would turn out. Just know, I’ve always loved you. _

_ Four years ago, after that week we spent together, I wanted to come back, but I was afraid. Afraid of the end of the world, afraid of what you would say. Afraid you wouldn’t want us. _

His frown deepened at that, and he glanced up at the photos, catching Sam’s quizzically look, before returning to the letter.

_ The doctors diagnosed me three years ago. When Lilah was only a few months old. There were signs, symptoms, but they said it was slow moving. I knew that I didn’t want to go through the treatment, and I didn’t want her to see me fade away, so I sent her to live with my aunt Linda. She knows about the life, but she isn’t in it - I had to tell her everything to keep her safe. She knows how to protect Lilah, and she knows who you are and that one day, you’ll come for her. _

_ I hope you will go for her. _

_ I never thought I would tell you, that she’d be a secret, maybe seeking you out when she was older, but now, knowing what I know, having spent this time with you, I can’t keep her from you. I can’t lie anymore, even though I’m a coward for telling you this when I am already dead. _

_ Your daughter, Lilah Winchester was born on the 7th June, 2008. She weighed 8 lbs, and she’s got hazel eyes like her uncle Sam. Her hair is the same shade as yours, and she’s so smart. I’ve kept in touch with her, seen her a few times, but I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t expose her to this life, and I can’t stay away. _

_ I know you won’t quit hunting. And I know you won’t let anything happen to her. I’ve seen your home, and I know it’s well fortified against threats. She’d be safe with you. _

“Who is she?” Sam mused, holding up a photo of the most beautiful little girl Dean had ever seen. He took the photo, holding it carefully between his fingers, a smile pulling the corner of his mouth up. “Dean?”

“She’s my daughter,” he whispered in reply, and Sam blinked, shock covering his face.

“Wait, what?”

_ I know you’ll never forgive me, and I’m sorry I hurt you. _

_ Please take care of our little girl. _

_ All my love _

_ Y/N _

“There’s a birth certificate here,” Sam muttered, rifling through the papers. “You’re listed as her father. She was born by caesarian section on -”

“The eighth of June,” Dean cut in, nodding and passing the letter to Sam. He read it, out loud, as the elder Winchester held the photo of his daughter, staring at it like he was looking at the sun. “She said it was a werewolf.”

Sam looked up from the letter. “She said what?”

“There was a scar. On her stomach. She said it was a werewolf. But it was her; Lilah. My daughter.” His words were filled with awe, and he wiped away tears with the back of his hand. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

“Maybe she was scared,” Sam responded, and Dean barked a laughter.

“I never knew her to be scared like that.”

“Maybe… maybe we didn’t really know her at all, Dean,” the younger man said, sadness tinting his tone. “She kept so much from us -”

Dean shook his head. “No. She was protecting her child.”

Sam narrowed his eyes, looking at his brother intently. “You want to go see her.”

“I want to bring her home.”

“Is that a good idea, Dean? With the trials, and the hunting, and…”

“I don’t care.”

“At least think about it when you’re sober.”

Silence descended on them, as Dean stood up, moving away from the table. He still clutched the photo of Lilah in his hands, carrying it with him as he disappeared up the stairs and out into the night.

The air still faintly smelled of burning as he grabbed a beer from the green cooler in the backseat and propped himself on the hood of the Impala, looking up at the stars. He placed the photo beside him, contemplating what to do as he chased away the whiskey with the flat beer. 

She would always be the woman he thought of before he went to sleep. No matter what Sam said, he knew he’d known her more than he’d ever know another person. She was a fleeting dream in his life, and he wished more than anything he’d had more time with her. But he’d learned the consequences of bringing someone back from the dead more than once, and he wasn’t going to condemn her to that fate.

He only hoped she was in heaven, where she belonged.

*****

“You sure you wanna do this?” Sam asked, for the thousandth time. Dean sighed, putting the car into park, looking over at his brother with exasperation. The younger of the two held his hands up, making a face as he tore his eyes away. “Sorry. I just… are you sure?”

“Yes, Sam, I’m fucking sure,” Dean seethed, gritting his teeth.

“Watch the language. You’re gonna have to get used to that,” he pointed out.

“Shut up.” Both of them fell silent as they looked towards the house, that looked the same as every other house on the block. White panelling, and a screen door at the front, off of the porch. Children’s toys were scattered across the lawn, and the post box had a large pink handprint on it. “Do you think I can do this?”

Sam sighed, turning in his seat to look at his older brother. “I think you need to make that decision. But, if it helps, I didn’t turn out so bad.”

Dean couldn’t help but smile a little, before sucking in a breath and opening the car door. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he knocked on the door, but Sam was close on his heels, silently offering support as they approached the house. He’d done this a thousand times, walked to a strange house to speak to witnesses, but this time, he was meeting his child.

He was a father.

The reality of that hadn’t quite sunk in yet.

“You got this,” Sam muttered, as Dean raised his hand to press the doorbell. It chimed through the house, followed by a squeal, and a feminine voice calling out. Seconds later, the door opened, and a rather rotund but kind-looking brunette lady smiled at them, before recognition settled over her round and reddened face.

“Oh,” she whispered, covering her mouth, her eyes going wide at the implication of their arrival on her doorstep. “Oh, no.”

“Ma’am, we’re -”

She held up a hand, shaking her head. “I know who you are,” she said, tears filling her eyes. “But if you’re here, it means -” she choked a little on her words, “- it means Y/N -” Dean swallowed, feeling his own eyes growing wet with emotion, and he nodded, his mouth set in a thin line. The woman wiped at her eyes, giving them a sorrowful smile. “You think that expecting these things makes it easier, but I’d hoped… that maybe she’d found a way to fight it.” She stood back, opening the door wider. “Come in, come in. I’m Linda, but I’m sure you knew that.”

The brothers stepped over the threshold, and Sam took Linda’s hand in greeting, although Dean was a little more reserved, his eyes darting around the modest interior of the house. “This is a nice place,” Sam commented, elbowing Dean in the back, prompting him to smile and nod.

Linda beamed, wiping away the few tears that had escaped. “Why thank you. Y/N grew up in this very house. I think that’s why she brought Lilah here. Poor thing didn’t want to drag her all around the country with her job, and all.” She gestured towards the sitting room, clearly visible through the open plan hallway. “Please, have a seat. Can I get you a coffee, or something?”

“Yeah, that would lovely,” Sam responded, taking a seat opposite his brother, and their host bowed out of the room, leaving them alone for a few seconds. “Dean?” The other man looked up, disrupted from his inspection of the house. “It’s not too late to -” He trailed off, eyes going wide as he looked beyond his brother. Dean frowned, sitting up and turning, seeing a little girl stood by the door behind him, her thumb jammed in her mouth, dark blonde hair in pigtails, and a plaid teddy clutched tightly to her dungaree clad form. 

He couldn’t help but stare. The photographs did her no justice - she looked just like her mother. 

“Hi,” Sam whispered, giving her a little wave, his eyes sparkling. The girl stepped forward looking between both of them, her eyes settling on Dean with a little frown creasing her tiny face.

The thumb left her mouth with a pop, and she cuddled her bear a little tighter. “I know you,” she said, her little voice making Dean’s heart soar. “I seen pitchers.”

“You have?” Dean asked, finding his voice suddenly absent and his throat dry.

The little girl nodded. “My mama show me. Is mama here?” Emotion choked him, and he had to hold back his tears as he shook his head, seeing her little face fall in disappointment. “Oh.”

“Lilah!” Linda exclaimed, walking into the room with hot coffee on a tray, placing it on the table in the middle of the room. “Honey, I told you to go upstairs.”

A pout appeared on the child’s face, and she shook her head. “Na-uh. He’s Dean. Mama told me.” She looked at him. Linda moved across the room, scooping her up into her thick arms, before settling her on her lap opposite Dean and next to Sam. Dean couldn’t take his eyes off of her. “Mama said he’s my Daddy.”

The room fell silent, the only sound the ticking of the gaudy clock above the fireplace, and Linda smiled awkwardly. “Y/N never lied to her. She told her the truth, apart from… from that.” She didn’t need to say it; no child should ever be aware of such a disease. “She has photos of you, and I knew you’d come one day; I only have one request.” Dean nodded sharply, unsure how to even start. “I don’t want her in danger. Now, I know, Y/N had an… unorthodox life. She showed me how to salt the doors and draw one of those funny trap things. God knows, this house is laced with charms and whatnots I can’t even start to understand. And she promised me that you would protect her, but you gotta understand -” she paused, looking at Lilah, who was playing with the heavy necklace around her great-aunt’s neck. “I’ve been looking after her for most of her life. I don’t wanna lose her. So all I ask, is that if there is danger, and she needs to be somewhere away from you, you bring her here.”

Sam nodded, smiling as he held out a hand to Lilah, who stared at it in awe. “Wow!” she exclaimed. “They’s the biggest hands I ever saw!”

Linda laughed, handing her off to Sam, who took his niece with the biggest grin Dean had ever seen on his face. He still couldn’t tear his eyes away - he didn’t think he ever would. “Y/N told you that I’d come for her?”

“Not at first,” the woman admitted. “At first, this was to protect her, give her the normal life Y/N wanted for her. She couldn’t give up huntin’, not when she knew what was at stake for other people. She came home occasionally, but she wouldn’t give it up. She felt like like she had a duty.” Dean knew that feeling all too well. “But she called, a few months back. Said you had a home, a safe place. Said that she was gonna tell you, but not until…” Linda stopped, swallowing thickly. “A child’s place is with her parents. I wouldn’t never disagree with that. But I need to know that she’ll be safe, in your line of work that is.”

“She’d be safe,” Sam answered, looking to Dean as he picked the little girl up and sat her on his knee. Lilah offered him her bear, and he took it, using it to pretend kiss her nose. “We’ve got a secure place, somewhere she could -”

“No.”

The interruption was unexpected, and Sam looked to Dean, frowning. His brother was shaking his head, and even Lilah looked at him, surprised by his tone of voice. She struggled against Sam’s hold, dropping to the floor, moving towards him, not even realising she’d left her bear with Sam.

“No?” Linda repeated, watching the staring match between father and daughter.

Dean shook his head, as Lilah reached up, pressing her finger to his nose. “This is mine,” she whispered, a little smile on her face. “Mama said so.” Emotion made his bottom lip quiver, and he nodded at her, feeling a smile tug at his lips.

“Hey.” Sam caught his attention, and Dean finally took his eyes off of her, just as she climbed into his lap and threw her arms around his neck. “Dean?”

“She should stay here. She’s safe, she’s loved, no one knows she exists. We bring her into our world, and she ends up just like us. I can’t watch her all the time, neither can you. And what about school?” Dean sniffed, wrapping his arms around the little girl clinging to him. “She belongs here, with her family.”

Linda gave him a sympathetic smile, tilting her head a little. “Sweetheart,  _ you’re _ her daddy.”

“But you’ve raised her. And this is her home. I’m not gonna tear her away from something like this and put her where we are. We can visit, we can spend holidays…” Dean pulled her back, looking into the big hazel eyes that her mom had described to him. “She deserves better than what I can give her.”

No one answered him for a few moments, but Lilah grinned widely. “You can visit, right?”

Dean nodded, smiling through his tears. “Yeah. Yeah, I can visit, sweetpea. I’ll visit as much as I can.” She clapped in excitement, and the tension spilled out of the room, making everyone relax. “Is this okay?”

“More than okay,” Linda replied. “And you boys are welcome here anytime. I’ve got a guest room you can use, so you don’t have to sleep in no awful motels.”

“Thank you,” Sam muttered, smiling at the sight of his brother and the child. He only wished Dean had Y/N here, that they could do this together. It was a long road ahead of them, but he knew somehow they’d make it work.

“Do you wanna see my room?” Lilah asked, tugging on Dean’s hand.

“Of course I do!” Dean replied, following her as she tugged him from the room and towards the stairs. Sam looked down at the bear in his hands, offering it to Linda, who took it with a smile.

“He’s making the right decision,” Sam muttered, and Linda sighed. “I just wish Y/N… I wish it hadn’t come to all this.”

The woman reached over, patting his knee. “She’s watching over them, Sam. I know it. At least Lilah got to know her a little, and she’ll have pictures and tales to hear.” She sighed, looking at the direction Dean and his daughter had gone in, hearing her excited squeals from upstairs. “He’s gonna be a good dad. He’s already shown it by what he’s done today.”

By the time night fell, Dean didn’t want to leave. They had no cases, and nothing to do, so Linda offered them the spare room again, and Dean readily agreed to spend a few days with the child he’d never known about. Sam was more than happy to stay too, having become completely enamoured with his niece.

It was five days before another case called them, and too many tears from Lilah, who had become very attached to the pair of them. Dean had managed to drag himself away, promising her he’d come back as soon as he could.

For three years, he kept to it, not leaving more than a few months between visits, both him and Sam being careful not to leave any trail that would lead demons or angels to their door. When he had the Mark, he kept his visits minimal, telling Linda he was sick, and when he became a demon, he avoided the place altogether, some small sliver of humanity reminding him that his daughter was precious and that he still had to protect her. She remained unknown to the world he battled, and when he finally ditched the black eyes, the first thing he did was drive through the night to see her.

And then the Darkness had come. For six months, he had to stay away, had to hold his thoughts back around Amara, hoping against hope she wouldn’t discover his link, his reason for being. He was successful, but Amara had seen  _ something _ in him. When he’d stumbled away from where he was supposed to die, trying to save the future for his daughter, and found his mom, she wasn’t alone.

She looked exactly how she had when he had first seen her, climbing out of her cherry red Buick all those years ago. Legs for miles, hair cropped back over her shoulders - she was wearing the Led Zeppelin shirt and shorts he’d always seen her in. And her smile…

He’d never forget it.

“Dean?” she whispered, taking hesitant steps towards him. Mary looked confused - she’d only just figured out where she was, and what she was doing, and now this strange girl was stumbling towards her son like she’d seen a ghost.

“Y/N,” he breathed, silently thanking Amara. When he’d seen his mom, he’d been overjoyed, even if he’d had to explain to her who he was. But now, seeing her, seeing the love of his life, alive and well in front of him… it was a wonder he didn’t strangle her from how tight her held her against his body. “You’re alive.”

“Apparently,” she joked, pulling away and looking up at him. “I don’t… I remember the hospital. I was gone -” Dean shushed her, cradling her face between his hands, staring into the eyes he’d missed so much. She hadn’t changed a day - he probably looked twenty years older to her.

His mom cleared her throat, disrupting their moment. “I’m sorry, but... who are you?” Mary interjected, looking very distraught.

Dean stepped back, sliding his hand down Y/N’s arm to grip her hand, not wanting to let go of her in case she disappeared, in case she wasn’t real. “This is Y/N. Y/N, this is… my mom.” Y/N blinked, aware that Mary had died some time ago. “Yeah, I’ve got some explaining to do,” he added, chuckling, feeling emotion stinging his eyes. “I can’t fucking believe this.”

“Wait,” Y/N said, frowning at him. “Where’s Lilah?”

“Who’s Lilah?” Mary asked, looking frustrated as she stood in the dark, still dressed in the white nightgown she’d died in. Dean swallowed, his eyes switching between the two women, both waiting for answers.

“She’s with Linda. We… I… I left her there -” He could see the anger in Y/N’s eyes and rushed to explain himself. “I know you told me that I could keep her safe. But… she deserved better than our life, Y/N. You knew that. That’s why you left her there right? I did the same. She knows me. I visit, a lot.” He looked at his mother, giving her a soft smile. “Lilah is our daughter.”

The expression on Mary’s face dissolved into a look of shock, and Y/N tightened her fingers around Dean’s hand, sighing. “I want to see her. I know it’ll be weird to her but…”

“I don’t think it will,” Dean muttered. “She knows more than I like, but it’s the only way to keep her safe.”

“Oh.” She swallowed thickly, before nodding. “Okay. I’m a little… overwhelmed. Are you overwhelmed?” she asked Mary, who nodded with wide eyes. “I think… I think I could use a drink? Maybe. And something to eat. And your mom could use some warmer clothes.”

Dean smiled, nodding enthusiastically. “We’re not far from the bunker, but Sam has the car so…” 

Y/N took a deep breath, dragging her fingers away from his, and he felt his heart thump hard at what he perceived to be rejection. “Then, let’s find a car.”

*****

Lilah slunk in through the door to her house, a scowl on her face as she dropped her school bag on the floor. In the kitchen, she could hear Aunt Linda singing out of tune, and the delicious smell of cookies wafted through the air.

“Lilah, honey, is that you?” the old lady called, and Lilah sighed, plastering a fake smile onto her face. There was no need to tell her aunt about what the girls at school had said. No need to worry her. She turned the corner, and Linda smile widely at her. “Good day, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” the young girl replied, climbing onto her usual stool at the kitchen island. She was tall for her age, a little gangly, the other kids said, but it gave her the advantage in certain things. Sports came easily to her for one, and that made life a little less harsh. 

“What’s wrong?” her aunt asked, frowning. “You can put on that cheery look all you like, my girl, but I know you.”

Lilah looked down at her hands. “Some of the girls at school…” Linda’s face fell. “They were teasing me about Mama and Dad.” Her voice dropped to almost a whisper, and she didn’t look up as her aunt took the stool next to her. “Said that I was abandoned because they didn’t want a freak like me.” She couldn’t even stop the tears welling up in her eyes.

“Oh baby girl,” Linda whispered, reaching over to slide a chubby arm around the girl’s shoulders. “Kids can be spiteful, but you know the truth. Your daddy left you here for protection, that’s why he only visits. And your mama -”

“I know, she’s in heaven,” Lilah sniffed, wiping at her runny nose with her sleeve, blinking away fresh tears. “But Daddy never stays for long. We’ve barely seen him in months. He doesn’t even call anymore.”

Linda sighed heavily, hugging Lilah close to her side. “Your father has a very important job, but it’s also a very dangerous job -”

“Hunting,” Lilah offered, and her aunt frowned.

“Yes. Although he’s not happy you know about it.” Her fingers tightened on Lilah’s shoulder. “He’s gotta keep a distance to protect you from things that might wanna hurt you, sweetheart. He does it because he loves you.”

The girl nodded, reaching out to snag a freshly baked cookie. Linda watched her for a moment. 

“Come on, I’m sure you’ve got some homework to do?” Lilah nodded at her aunt’s question, and the older woman smiled in return. “Then pick your school bag up and go get on with it. School will be done for summer soon, and you can spend your time as you wish, but right now -”

The doorbell chimed and Linda paused mid-sentence, her brow creasing as she glanced towards the hallway. Lilah moved, wandering into the hall, feeling a strange sensation in her belly as she saw the dark shadow of someone on the other side. 

“Now, who could that be?” her aunt mused, moving up behind her, but Lilah bolted, running to the door and throwing it open, just as Linda called out her name, hoping to stop her.

She looked like an angel. Stood in the doorway, framed by May sunlight, her smile wide and tears making her eyes wet. There was a hiccuped laugh or sob, Lilah wasn’t sure which, but she did know this woman, although she’d never thought to see her alive again. Linda stumbled backwards, clutching her chest in shock, one hand against the wall for support.

“Y/N?” she whispered, as the woman in the doorway nodded, her eyes flickering upwards briefly before returning to the beautiful young girl in front of her. She dropped to her knees, holding her arms out.

“You got so big,” she whispered, and Lilah burst into tears, running forwards to throw her hands around her mother’s neck, clinging to her. Behind Y/N, Dean approached, a lady neither of them knew behind him, standing with Sam, who had a wide grin on his face. He offered Linda a gentle smile, and she sank down to sit on the floor, unused to seeing people return from the dead.

“Mama,” Lilah sobbed out, burying her face in Y/N’s neck, and her mother was crying too, tears soaking into the fabric of the little girl’s school dress. 

Dean watched, unsure if his heart could contain the emotion that was churning inside him. After so many years of wanting, waiting, wishing… he had his family back. The woman he loved, and the daughter he doted on, and to boot, his mother and brother.

Sometimes, there was a price to pay. And he knew that whatever it was, he would pay it a thousand times over for this moment.


End file.
